My Wonderful Husband
by Talon-Heartless
Summary: AU. It's either him or me, and it's definitely not me, no matter what they say. They're all on his side, when I'm the only one left sane. He is my brother, and I am not his husband. Itacest, others.
1. Pt1: Losing My Pride

**My Wonderful Husband  
**(a story of the world-gone-wrong)

Hello! I, Talon-Heartless, welcome one and all to** the World-Gone-Wrong!**

Well, the following is a new Itacest fic that's been in the making for, well... quite a fair bit now. Enjoy. (by the way, this is totally unrelated to any of my other stories.) This will be told in three parts. First and third parts will be far shorter than the second, which will probably be split into smaller parts.

The following story will contain some other pairs as well. These will be kept secret until their appearance, but, well... expect the unexpected. It'll get you harder.

Thanks goes to FujimoriChikaru for moral support and approval.

Written in the present tense, because I prefer it to the past. :P

* * *

**Title:** My Wonderful Husband

**Rating:** T - language, gay and straight romance. Some incest, to the point of implied sex. Slight homophobia.

**Genres:** Romance/Family/Drama/a bit crack

**Pairings:** Mainly Itacest. Others include, well... one other yaoi and three het. You'll see. And I approve of them all!

**Summary:** AU. It's either him or me, and it's definitely not me, no matter what they say. They're all on his side, when I'm the only one left sane. He is my brother, and I am not his husband. Itacest, others.

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**Part One  
****Losing My Pride **

The wind's cold, the sky's dark, and I still feel sick.

There, outside, in the summertime air, I talk to the feeling again. I tell it to stop, to shut up, to go die in a hole somewhere, so I can bury it there and let it rot, so it never comes back, and I won't dig it up again.

That feeling's still there, that evil buzz on my lips. My arms still feel empty, and my chest's still ablaze. I sigh, and it's not cold enough to see it.

Why? Why did we ever have to say 'yes' to that wretched girls' game? Why did Feli ever accept the dare, when the choice of saying 'no' was right in front of him - the choice he took whenever it was offered? Why did he leap at me like that, so quickly that I wasn't quick enough to move away? Why did his lips meet mine?

And why, of all the things, did I kiss back?

I can feel the bile surfacing in my throat; it stings as I swallow it down. I didn't feel that way then.

_No, my arms were around his waist, and my chest was pressed against his, our clothes the only wall between us and full contact, and I'd craved it, I'd craved for all that and more, I'd craved for that insane feeling of heat and madness and fever and -_

_Oh, fuck. Can't you just go?_

I look up at the ink of the sky above me; I'm alone on the pavement; barely lit up by the drooping head of a lamp-post. I can still hear the party at Gilberts, just behind me - and if I turn around, I'm sure I'll see the lights there too.

I really don't want to look back.

What Feli did was wrong. He made me feel wrong. He was drunk, wasn't he? He's too damn young, oh, Feli...

"Lovi!"

_Oh, fuck, not him, not you, of all people - _

My little brother. The one I'd shoved away just in time. My mind freezes for a second as I realise what could have happened had I not taken action. I shiver. _Thank God._

Thank God I didn't do _that_ to him. I'd never have lived it down.

"Lovi…" his breaths say. He's panting slightly, though he's certainly not run far. He's better than that. I turn around, facing him and his rotten shame. On the road-side, I can barely see him, but I can definitely see the tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "Lovi, please… what's wrong?"

Such an innocent voice he has. So sweet, so pure and angelic. If it's a game of 'good brother, bad brother', there's no prizes for guessing which one he is. The perfect little golden boy. Mr Happy-Clappy. Smiley-Boy. Sweetie-Pie.

I'm always the bad one, aren't I? They all just love him so much, and they always say how wonderful and lovely and cute he is – and look at me now! That's Lovino, moody and grumpy and a freaking-bastard-if-I-ever-saw one. That's the imperfect me, and now that little goody-goody's playing innocent? Pretending there's nothing wrong? Nothing?

"Look, Feliciano. Look." My voice is a shout, and the more it grazes my throat, the better the feeling. "What's wrong? What's wrong, huh? _You_ kissed your own brother, and now you're asking _me_ what the fuck's wrong?" I clench my fists tighter, flames gathering into a storm inside of me.

"You think you're so innocent, do you? You think life's all pasta and princesses? Well, sorry, Mummy's not bailing you out, is she? You can't just have everyone saying sorry for you, can you?" A growl rumbles in my innards as I take a predatory step closer. "You're fucking sixteen. You're sixteen, Feliciano Vargas, and you're just doing whatever your sugar-coated brain tells you to do?"

His breath feels like kettle-steam as it brushes against my neck. I try to suppress the shivers, and I can tell he's cowering. Serves him right, doesn't it?

"B-but, Lovi, I d-didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean it? _You didn't mean it?_" Oh, of course he didn't mean it. Little baby needs his bottle, does he? "You've shamed me in front of everyone, you've just turned me into a gay fucker in front of everyone's eyes. You know what they'll say? You know?" I feel the boiling and the rise of ferocity within; my fist extends, becoming a grab at his shirt, nails aiming for flesh and so much more. He's going to hurt. He needs to hurt.

"I can't ever go out like this, you know? You know what they do to faggots round here?" Shaking, I scream out, _"Don't you know?"_

"Lovi, I'm sorry!" – a sudden pull, so sharp it could be a rip, running, the wind from a sudden Olympic sprint, a push of air into my face, and he's running away, right in front of me, fingers slipping out of reach, out, away from me, out into the road, a frenzy of headlights, and I'm running too, and I don't know why I'm running, and I'm screaming, crying out, "Feliciano, stop!", but it's too late, and I can't save him, and there's not a thing I can do, but then I reach him and grab and push at the same time, and then a sharp noise and a bang and a sharp, horrible pain, everywhere, all over –

Black.

_**end of part one.**_


	2. Pt2: Losing My Mind: 21

**My Wonderful Husband**

**Welcome back!** **Crazy weekend… sprained my ankle, learnt to make cocktails, suddenly started watching football… (by the way, my ankle's better now)**

Well, I'm glad to say this part is the majority of the story. In fact, you could say Parts 1 and 3 are somewhat of a prologue/epilogue. Anyway, Part 2 will be made up of several chapters, which, in themselves, will be longer.

I'd already written most of this before, hence the quick update. Other chapters will update randomly, especially with exams coming up, but I'll try to get it out as soon as possible.

Also – Elise de Smet is Belgium. I haven't come up with a definite human name for her, but I'll use this in this fanfic.

**Prepare for confusion. The show commences now. *cue Moulin Rouge style intro… actually, nah.***

**To the following people (whoa, that's a lot!)…**

**Fanfiction  
****Akira Cat** – thanks for the fave!  
**Hetaliapasta90 **– lovely alert!  
**Invader Kinko** – thank you very much!  
**BleakDusk **– same to you, with love!  
**24gamefreak **– and you! :)  
**The IssMoo** – love that!  
**Silverrain84 **– Oh, did I? Well, he's going to be wishing he had died… *evil laugh*  
**Doremi13** – glad to hear it! Well, this'll set things on fire.

**DeviantArt**

**YentlYaoi **– all faves are appreciated!  
**windalchemist001 –** Well, it's just getting started!  
**shifting-raincloud -** *sends you tissues and love*  
**sunInSkyxLoveInAir **– thanks to you too!

**Cookies for all! Anyway…**

**Part Two  
****Losing My Mind**

**2.1**

The world is blurry.

Blurry, like a mess of water; blurry, like the sea, as it shines through the crack between my eyelids. It blurs whenever I wake up, when the light hasn't come through yet, and I'm a lazing lump in the middle of the bed, not wanting to move. Sometimes, I rush myself awake, trying to wrestle myself out of a nightmare. At other times, I just groan and try to force myself to go back to sleep again. I'm either tired, or just not ready to wake up yet.

I remember it being like this. I remember it. Every morning, the sheets are cold, and the bed's uncomfortable. The world outside the bed is even worse, but at least the bed is better. It feels really uncomfortable now. _Worse._ Maybe it's not even my bed.

I'm tired as hell, and I don't want to wake up, but my body does. It does that every time - I want to sleep on, but my eyes don't. They want to open, even when my brain wants them to close and forget about opening for the next few hours or minutes.

I don't know. I don't want to sleep, but there's no reason to wake up. I've not had any bad dreams.

I haven't actually dreamt anything, and if I have, then I've already forgotten. It's just been a blackout, and there's a horrible pain in my side. My head's throbbing a little, but it always does that. The pain in the side is different, but I can feel it; I'm on my back, and I'm lying straight. It's like I've been hurt, like -

_The car!_

It strikes me like lightning - the memory of the night, and Feliciano running out, and screaming, and the flash of lights, and a screech, and a pain -

The battle begins, brain against eyelids, trying to open, trying to get more and more of that faint light in my eyes, to force them to stop the sleep, to wake up. I have to see Feliciano... have to see that he's all right... have to...

A small moan falls rumbles in my throat, as I struggle to open my eyes. For once, the tables are turned; I'm the one forcing myself out of sleep, and it's my eyes that are the lazy oafs that don't want to listen. Damn you, for Feli...

Slowly, more light enters the increase of my vision, and my eyes finally open. The light's harsh, but I've got to be strong. For Feliciano, on my pride as a brother...!

Finally, there's nothing but that very light. The blur is still there, like looking underwater, but the mist is fading. Outlines form before my eyes - the lines of a clear, white window, with bride's-veil curtains flapping away at either side. The sky is blue, and the sun is shining in the corner of the opening.

Pale, off-white, cold walls are all around me and the opening, and I'm lying down, face forced to stare at the ceiling above. A faint breeze of conversation echoes around me; it's only when I recognise the smell of hand gel and out-of-place flowers that I realise where I am.

Hospital. No wonder I'm sore. I must have been hit.

You know, maybe this is just a hallucination. Maybe this whole thing never happened. Maybe, you know, I passed out at the party last night. Maybe Spin the Bottle was a dream. Maybe I was comatose.

I sigh, my throat raw with the lack of water. _How long, then? How long have I been out of it for?_

"Oh!" A little gasping voice sounds out - a girl, not old - and I gasp too, unprepared for the initial shock. "You've woken up!"

The voice's owner approaches me, and past the pale blue scrubs, I look at the woman's face. Wide, green eyes blink in time with mine, pale golden waves bouncing with energy - as they always, always did -

"Elise... is that you?" She nods in response, a smile blooming on her perky little face.

Elise - Elise de Smet, I know her - is one of those girls you can't describe with just one word. She's strange, in her way - bouncy and friendly and smiling and sunny - but there's mischief in her too, and something rather catlike; she's savvy and graceful and a great many other things. Wild but tame, I've heard people say.

"I'm really happy. I mean..." she looks up for a second in thought, "I'm really happy you're OK. With what happened last night, I really didn't know... the whole thing was so sudden..." There's pure concern on her normally rosy cheeks, and a second later, I realise that there's some answering left for her to do.

"Since when are you a nurse?" She's only eighteen; too young, unless she's just on experience. Some kind of dress up thing? Wait, am I drunk? Where's the hangover?

She sighs for a second, as if I'm supposed to know, but quickly, it's replaced by a smile. "Three months. I told you guys, didn't I?" Shrugging her shoulders, she strolls closer to my side, to the right of the horrible white bed I'm still lying on. If it's really been three months, then I don't remember.

"How long have I been out?"

"The night. It's nearly midday now. You passed out somewhere round ten at night."

"Wait..." There was a mistake. "Elise, I didn't pass out." And I was regretting this. All the memories of the car, of why I'd run, of why Feli had run, were resurfacing, and the pain surged through me again. "I got hit by a car outside. My side still hurts."

Her eyes widen a little. "Lovi," she calls me by that annoying name from our dates in years before, "Lovi... what car? There wasn't a car."

_What?_

"You fainted at the party last night."

_Fainted? _My own eyelids stretch open in response. "But... I was hit. I'm sure of it. Outside, at Gilbert's."

Looking down at me, her eyes glint with a new, serious edge, glossed with worry. "Lovino, you weren't at Gilbert's. You were at ours."

"_Ours?_ What do you mean - "

"Mine and Antonio's. It was our engagement party."

_What on earth?_

My mind erupts in confusion. There was no engagement party. _Tomato Bastard and Waffle Lover? Engaged? _The thought of them even kissing felt alien. This was crazy. It couldn't be. She's eighteen, he's twenty, they're crazy, this is crazy, she's crazy -

"Elise, this isn't funny. You're not engaged." It's wrong, all wrong. They're not together. I've known Tomato Bastard long enough to know he doesn't go for Elise's lot. He's not that sort of man - if anything, he's an insanely gay paedophile freak who says he likes girls - but hell, anyone with eyes can tell he's fibbing.

She looks at me in a way that anyone looks at a freak, gasping more than speaking. "We are, Lovi, _look,_ don't say you've forgotten!" Only then do I notice the little gold-and ruby-ring twinkling on her index finger; the ring I had not noticed. The ring that was wrong, that was weird and insane and so, so strange in my view -

"I said, stop the jokes! You think last night wasn't bad enough?" Sitting up, a sudden surge of madness and strength pulses through my veins. "Now you're playing a joke? Well, it's not funny!" If I speak any louder now, I'll be screaming -

"No, Lovino, please! Calm down, please..." Her hands push down on my shoulders in an attempt to calm me. "Lovino, please... they said there was no damage to you..." Her eyes look watery with a new, sudden fear that makes me feel guilty inside for the shout. "Don't... don't tell me you've forgotten us..."

"...Don't... please..."

I swallow, pushing the sheets and their horrible heat away from my body, embracing hers in a firm hug. Whispering, I say to her, "It's fine. I'll remember."

I don't know if she will remember, because I haven't forgotten, and I know it's her that's gone all stupid, and this isn't real anyway. She loosens her grip, a somewhat more content look on her face. Reassured, I hope. "Just... don't tell, you know? Act normal."

If this is her joke, others will probably be in on it. That's right, today is April 1st and they think it's all funny. Well, you know what? You can't trick me. I'll just get you back.

"Normal?" I spit. Yeah, this is normal.

It's crazy. It's not real. _It is not._

I'm dreaming, aren't I? I raise a lazy hand to pinch myself, and the pain strikes. I count down the seconds, but I'm still here. Shifting the same hand, I raise it in front of myself, shaking a little. Swing – ready for the whack, and –

Elise's hand coils around my wrist, quicker than lightning. "What are you – "

"I'm waking myself up. I'm dreaming, Elise. Now get out of my nightmare, will you?"

Her eyes twist inside, adopting a look that shows that I am a freak in her mind. I can tell these things, for God's sake. I'm not blind. I'm not deaf either, and I can definitely feel the stress polluting her sigh.

"Lovino, please. You don't realise how much Feliciano's been worried about you. Don't make it worse, please."

_Oh, God. I forgot all about him_. A sudden, louder pounding rises in my chest_. I forgot about him._

I do everything I can to force the memories of the night before out of my brain. It's not the best thing to think of when you've just faced a crazy, worse-than-death sort of experience. Still gasping, I huff it out. "Wait, Elise… what happened to Feliciano? He's all right, isn't he?"

Her hands feather-touch my shoulders, and I feel reassured again, somehow. Nurse's touch or something? "He's fine. He was worried about you – I mean, it was a bit sudden – but he stayed by your side all through it. He's not slept a wink, though. Toni's taken him to get some coffee… He's just battered, really."

Battered? "Did he get hit- "

"Lovi, please," she pleads at me, and the kitty-eyes are out hunting. "Lovi, he wasn't hit. There was no hit, okay? Please, I'm doing this for your sake."

Some nurse. Seriously, she won't accept I'm doubting her? For my sake? _Oh, yeah, of course_, and Ludwig Beilschmidt may as well be straight. Crazy woman, but what can you do?

If it means making sure that Feli's OK, I'll lie it off a little. I guess I was a little harsh on him anyway…

"Fine, I fainted, everyone's fine," I sigh. "Can I see my brother now?"

She blushes for a moment, so barely the blush is barely caught. "I think so. At least, the doctors checked you. You should be fine. I'll just go and ask, one second…"

All I hear is the click-meets-tap noise of her shoes dancing on the blue-white wash of the floors, and my eyes look up to the ceiling again. I don't understand this one bit, but the prank really does feel pretty convincing. They've even got me in the hospital. Lovely, great, my ass.

There's a little burst of excitement outside the doors, and I recognise it as Elise again. She's talking to someone, and from the first second of focusing, my mind strikes a chord named Feliciano.

It's him. Oh God, how do I face him? And they seem so happy… Has he just thrown last night aside –

"Lovi! Lovi, oh, Lovi! You're all right!" His voice is chirping and whistling and as striking to my mind as the dazzling summer sunshine, like wonderful clarity after a life in the dark, and I feel so happy and relieved, and I feel him running towards me.

Before I can look at him and even think about saying just how sorry I am for everything, and then hug him and tell him he's the best little brother in the universe, his arms are around me already, and he's just continuously repeating my name, and he's so close, and it's so wonderful to be with him again…

"Lovi, I'm so happy! I-I was so scared for you!" I don't know why, but I can't speak, and I can't do anything but hug him back, and it's all so perfect –

A sudden pressure on my lips.

_Oh God, last night! Hasn't he – _

A quick shove, sudden but gentle, separates us again. A wave of stability, a bout of sensibility. I look at him, and I just hope he's finally learnt his lesson.

"Feliciano, please… don't. I don't want that to happen again. Last night was crazy. I'm really sorry I shouted at you… and no, I didn't mean it, but please, we're brothers, we're not -"

"Lovi, wait!" His eyes have turned to pools of runny liquid, and I feel like I've just kicked a puppy. "You've forgotten? You really have?"

"What?"

"You… and me…"

"Look, what is it? Don't tell me you're in on this shit too."

He looks down, then up at me, with the most earnest look I have seen in my lifetime. "Lovino… you and me… I mean, it's a secret, but we know, and, and…" He's close to tears, and I just want to wipe them all away, but I can't. I feel ill inside.

"Lovino… you're still my husband, aren't you?"

**(end of 2.1 – reviews are loved)**


	3. Pt2: Losing My Mind: 22

**My Wonderful Husband**

**I'm back. Exams are over. Hallelujah. Sorry. Back to life.**

I've had a lot of good response for 2.1, so 2.2 is out now. I'd also like to share a little musical quote…

"**Follow the madness,  
****Alice, you know, once did…"**

_**-** from 'Storytime' by Nightwish_

I've also decided to split my fanfiction and dA responses between the two sites, so that'll clean things up a bit. Your love really does float my boat, by the way.

**Allow me to just say that there's more to this story than you'll find out in this chapter. The mystery is not complete and will not be for a little bit longer...**

* * *

**Lovely, lovely lovelies:**

**SilanHaye **– thank you!  
**BlackandBlueHeart411 **– lovely!  
**xVanishedLullabys **– continue I shall! *sends you a muffin*  
**TheIssMoo –** Luck accepted and held close to the heart. *muffin*  
**myloveraneko –** thanks for the alert!  
**Artemis Kuromoru** – you too!  
**Heaven'sKnight15** – thanks!  
**doremi13** – I actually amazed myself there too. Never knew I could go into someone's head in that much detail… As for what's next, this. Oh, and a muffin.  
**ScienceWolf** – oh my gosh, thanks so much! Here you go. *muffin storm*

**I feel all *shiny* now. Anyway…**

* * *

**2.2**

I have died.

Yeah, that's got to be it. I'm dead. Simple as. The car hit me, I died, that's it. Finished. This is just some crazy dream I'm having in the transit between Earth and Heaven and possibly Hell, but I don't even know.

I can't be dreaming. This is just too fucking nuts for this to be a coma. Well, the chances are high that I am just dreaming and sooner or later, I'll wake up and life will be normal.

I just really don't know how a coma can be this fucking _evil_.

You're supposed to wake up in an insane world where rabbits have wings and could be mistaken for minty blobs. A world where sea turtles are climbing around and on top of you and taking over the world as you know it. Where things are just plain bonkers and make no sense and are as random as the swirling shit that just happens to be buzzing in my head at the moment. Crazy crap; so crazy you know it's got to be fake and you're having one insane fuck of a dream.

This could be a coma, but I don't think it's a coma. Comas aren't this realistic. And they make more sense.

I'm stuttering, not knowing what I'm actually meant to be saying, or even how to react, and all that's coming out of me is a lot of gibberish, because all I can look at right now are Feliciano's eyes; all I can feel is the little-creature fear in them.

And concern. And –

"Feliciano… what on Earth?" I finally utter, feeling him gasp as the air quakes. My heart's beating so hard I think I may just have a heart attack. _This is not real._

_Feliciano can do pretty good puppy-dog eyes, but I've never seen him fake tears._

He's the same mess as I am, his hair out of place from its usual shine, dark under his eyes, a droplet in the corners. Clothes rumpled, cheeks mottled pink with worry. The coffee, I realise, hasn't helped.

But this just isn't a prank anymore. This can't be a joke, or a prank, or some crazy gag to get me to atone for my sins or some shit.

His lips are shaking – not wobbling, but actually trembling, as if he can't think of the words to say something. I regret my choice of words immediately, but it's too late to take them back.

"L-Lovi?"

I just feel sick to the core; an abomination to the soul. I've said something hurtful to an already mentally-bruised little brother, and I just want to hit myself. Yes, this is a coma; no, this isn't; oh, do I even know what on Earth is going on?

"What's going on?" I finally huff out, the breaths scarring my insides. "I'm not your husband, Feliciano." I slow it all down, slow my speech as if I am not talking to a boy three years my junior, but to a three-year-old with his thumb in his mouth. "I'm your brother."

He breathes in, and the fear's not gone yet, even though I've tried to stay calm. I've got to keep a cool head in the matter – I've got to get the words out, but how do I do it without freaking him out?

"I-I know, Lovi, we still are, but…" he looks away, sleeve mopping at the apprehension. "It's our secret, isn't it? You can say it; there's only me. And Elise, but she knows too. And Toni."

If he isn't joking, I honestly have no idea how someone like him can even hide it. Feliciano blabs everything. I sigh – no wonder the other two know. _Some secret._

"Still are? What do you mean? And, please, for God's sake, you can drop the act. I've honestly had enough of a beating without this shit messing my head up, and I don't need a stupid joke to get me to realise my mistake and all that crap." I pause, realising I haven't cushioned the fall. "If you're joking with me, that is, and I really hope you're not."

I'd sell my soul got the hope that that it is all a joke, but somehow, I just don't think anyone'd be sick enough to put things like this. I sigh, and the pain in my side ebbs in and flows out again.

"I just really, really, hope you're not joking."

There's nothing more to say. I don't blink for a minute, then close my eyes and look down for another; I hear a rapid thumping of half-running steps beating down the corridor, and I already know that by the time I look up, I'll have lost my little brother.

He is not my husband. Or my wife, if that's how far his dignity takes him.

"They really did say there was nothing wrong," I hear Elise sigh. Antonio, by now, has entered the room, and there's something so, so strange about the fact that he's got his arm around her, and she's _so close_ to him, leaning on his shoulder and chest and trying to work out her mind.

It feels strange, but it doesn't feel wrong.

* * *

I'm really not sure about anything now.

I never knew Antonio even had a car, let alone that tomato-coloured thing. I'm just glad – for him, for some reason – that it's not got the little red-and-green things painted all over it. I know – well, knew – that he had, or even _has_ a tomato obsession to the point where it's not healthy any more, but I never knew he'd go that way with it.

I'd just blabbed shit, and they'd both put on their happy little faces and said that _no, nothing's wrong, you were right, he's fine. Lovino's normal, tra-la-la, toodle-doo, nothing to see here._

At least they'd let me go; Elise had promptly realised her hospital shift (which I am still a bit unsure of) had ended half an hour ago, and bouncing by Tomato Bastard's side, had led me out into the world.

_With them, of course. I hadn't seen Feliciano. Best you'd stay away from him for now,_ Elise had advised. _We're still not sure about this whole 'crazy' thing._

They're not sure. They're the ones that have lost their mind. Can't be me, can it? My mind is crystal clear, and if this is a dream or a coma or still a crazy prank to get me to forgive and forget and all that shit, I definitely didn't marry my own brother.

They think I'm his husband. Ugh. How does that work, anyway?

We're brothers. They wouldn't let us marry if we begged the bastards.

But he seemed so upset, so broken, and I just got that crazy feeling from before, like I needed to hug him and hold him, and let the tears fall so I could kiss the saltwater away –

I think my mind is going to vomit. I just know this is wrong. I can't figure anything out of this shit, but I just can't believe this.

I don't know why it's my brain that feels like it's about to self-destruct at this thought, or why my heart feels strange when I think about it.

Strange, in a way that tells me this isn't wrong. But strange, _in a way that my head tells me it is._

I'm just glad to know Tomato Bastard's house is still white. If it'd turned red overnight, I would have just gone looking for the nearest gun.

It's Elise's house now too. Maybe it's her that stopped the red rampaging.

* * *

"Lovi, wake up…"

There's an echo in my head, and it's crying out my name. It won't stop, the sounds becoming more and more of a blur as I hear them over and over again. Like I'm drowning, but not drowning – just submerged in water without the need to breathe, and all the sounds from up above are just an echo. Like a fish swimming, but not drowning, fish can't drown anyway – oh, but what if they can? You know, fish are just crazy like that. _Fishies._

Fishies are strange – _oh, fuck, what on Earth am I even thinking about?_

This time, I jerk myself up quicker than before; I've swum upwards before and the depths have stopped being my fear. The fishies aren't going to bite me, and I have no idea why I'm remembering things my mother told me years ago.

I hope for a second that it is Feliciano, the beloved brother I've spited and hurt for a perfectly valid reason – but my feelings fall the instant I realise that it's Elise again.

"Good morning, sleepy head!" Her laugh lifts my spirits, just like before, when she pulled me out of sleep before. "You only fell asleep a bit, though."

I'm thankful it's only _a bit_. I can't imagine what fainting felt like; if they think I even fainted at that engagement party thing, I really don't remember it. Pushing myself up into a seated position on the sofa – which is burning scarlet right into my brain at the moment – I feel a familiar, unwanted rush in my side.

That pain. It hurt, but I needed that pain. That pain was going to keep me safe; keep reminding me this is all fake. Fainting wouldn't have given me a pain there, and my head isn't throbbing any more than normal – wait, doesn't it normally throb? You know, throbbety-throb? Like –

I breathe out what feels like a gust of wind, eyes making perfect contact with Elise's emerald orbs. "…Elise, I'm going crazy."

She just looks at me with that simple look cats give you as they spy you walking down the road. "Lovino, what do you mean? What do you mean, _crazy_?"

She called me by my full name again. Not 'Lovi', not that funny little pet-name she made up for me back when we dated. We weren't together for long, but what could be done if it began from the first hour?

She still called me 'Lovi', even long after we'd decided it wasn't going to work. She called me that anyway, any day, all the time, long after our decision to stay friends. She didn't call me by my full name unless something serious was going on.

She's been calling me that a lot more.

I sigh. "Well, crazy. Crazy, like – like you're having totally random thoughts, and feeling like all of this isn't real, like it can't be real. All my memories, Elise. Everything tells me this is wrong."

It all comes out like a speeding train, and I can't seem to be able to brake. "Like you and Antonio; you were just friends. Then, you know, the Feliciano thing. We're brothers, nothing more. I remember all this, Elise. I don't remember fainting because I didn't faint; I was hit by a car as I ran out to stop Feliciano. We had a fight at Gilbert's house, and, oh…"

I just can't speak any more. It's all gone. Dead.

I feel her arm wrapping its way around my body, her body heat making me a little warmer. I ponder in silence, just for a second, treasuring the feeling of having a friend.

She doesn't understand me, _but she knows me. _I don't know why, but I can trust her.

"Lovi, calm down." I'm already calmed by the return of the nickname. "Please, don't panic." She sighs, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't understand either. Everything told me you weren't injured, and then, when I saw – well, heard you… I didn't know what to do. I really do want to trust you on this, Lovi, and take my word for it, as friends – I will help you." I look at her again, beginning to shed the shame of looking down below.

"I don't know what's going on, why you've lost your memory. Maybe, you know, it's not you. I want to trust you, Lovino."

"Why?" Something feels odd now. Why? Why is she trusting me so much? Why am I suddenly her golden soulmate? She's engaged, I'm supposedly married… what on Earth makes her so trusting of me now? Aren't I _crazy_ or something to her?

"You see, Lovino…" and her eyes are lit with something I can only recognise, like a feeling burning inside. I've not seen this before, but I know it is definite trust. "You and Feliciano are the reason for this." With that, she flicks out her fingers, quite gently, and the ring sparkles again. "Because of you two, we… realised things about each other. We tried it out. We went on, and it all clicked."

"We wouldn't have even started dating, if not for you."

It's stirring, and humbling, and twisting inside of my chest – something like happiness. Happiness for someone else.

_Me and him._

"I… I didn't know…"

She smiles. "It's fine, Lovi. Don't worry. It doesn't matter which of us is wrong. Maybe it's me." She has a feline look in her features, and I know she thinks I'm the one with everything gone wrong in the brain, but she goes on nonetheless.

There's something that confuses me, though. "Elise… wait. If this is you and Antonio's engagement… how long were you dating?"

"Four years."

"Wait, what? Weren't we dating a year ago?" I yelp. It's not the dating that's important – I'm just not sure how long this whole thing's been going on for. If it's because of me and my brother –

"Lovi, we haven't dated for nearly six years now."

_Holy shit. _"Then wait. How old are you? What year is this anyway?"

Her finger bops my nose, making me flinch. "Never ask a lady her age! Today… well, today is the 16th… of August… year's 2017."

Hold on. "…Seventeen?"

"Yup." A nod.

"How long was I out for?"

"One night." Stop the world. I don't even know now.

"Elise… wait. Wait a second. If this is 2017… then… then…" I've not got it yet. I don't get this at all, and somehow, something's just clicked inside this useless head of mine.

"The party was on the 15th of August… but it was in 2012."

**end of 2.2  
****DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNN  
****(review, please! to be continued!)**


	4. Pt2: Losing My Mind: 23

**My Wonderful Husband**

**Sorry I'm so late! I'm working on a new project as well as this, so I've been busy. And lazy. (SLAP ME!)**

**I've decided to break this bit up into two separate parts, simply because it's a loooong part. So yes, there's very little here, and I'm sorry, but if I wrote the entire bit out, you'd have twice the wait, and you've already waited long enough. Sorry. So sorry. **

**The last part will probably confuse you, but it'll make sense in the end. Just remember it.**

**On a lighter note, thanks to YentlYaoi (dA) and xVanishedLullabys (ffn), all fans and readers of _My Wonderful Husband _shall hereby be known as _Romano's Fishies_. Or just, you know_, Fishies._**

* * *

**Fabulous Fishies:**

**Fanfiction  
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**Jump in!**

* * *

**2.3**

Five years. It doesn't work, does it? How does that work, if it is only one night?

_Focus. Calm down, Lovino. Breathe. Think about it. It's the day after the car accident. Except, of course, it wasn't an accident, and it's all your fault. Apart from that, you woke up the next day. Right? Done that._

_But, answer this, Lovino Vargas. How the fuck do you end up five years in the future?_

Elise can't answer that question. It's all mine to find out. She thinks I'm crazy, and so do the others. I just don't know, for hell's sake.

Where am I now? Where is reality? Which is the dream – the party at Gilbert's, and everything before it – or now, this crazy new life five years away, in which my brother and I are married? Which is the right world? Which one is the wrong one? How can I be dreaming this anyway?

"Elise, please… how on earth is this happening?" My voice has frayed to a mumble, a stutter. It's all collapsed, all gone, all shattered into pieces. I just can't be dreaming.

I don't know why, but the surge in my brain is telling me this – that it isn't a dream. This is not fantasy. This is real. I don't know why I'm feeling this – like a voice in my head, but not quite a voice. An urge. The same urge you get knowing that one plus one is not three. The same urge that tells you that people are male or female. The urge that yes, it's sunny outside. The obvious. Something elementary.

My head sinks into my hands. I want to pretend it's all made up, like before, but I just can't dismiss this. It makes my heart sink, makes the corners of my eyes prickle, makes a strange taste rise at the back of my throat.

It's over. I've been wrong. It's all turned. I can't let her see my face. I'm not crying_. I'm not crying._

"I don't know what's right anymore… I just…" and oh God, I've forgotten what to say. Everything I thought was right was wrong, and now, all of a sudden, I feel that my former memories are fake. There's nothing. There's just this overwhelming sense of reality, if that's any way to put the impossible into words, and I feel like everything I used to know…

"I-I just… why? Why does this feel right to me? It can't be, Elise. This can't be, but it is, and everything feels right, but my mind thinks it's wrong, and-"

I can't speak. It hurts me inside, hurts so much. I don't know. I just do not know. The first warm droplet runs down my cheek, and it feels like acid corroding my skin, down to the bones.

Before it can dare to fall, I feel her embracing me again, a rogue hand on my chin, trying to get me to look at her. I don't want to – but I cannot resist. All my strength; the strength I had as a person,_ as a man_, is gone. I feel like an empty lump of flesh and bones, and all the spirit has seeped away.

"Lovi."

The short, brisk word bolts from her tongue. Our eyes clash in an instant.

"It doesn't matter. Lovi, who really cares?" It's firmness, sharpness and strength; so unlike the smiling, carefree girl with the spring of a kitten that I first saw.

"It doesn't matter if it feels wrong, or if it feels right. Just don't overload yourself. Right now, that's what all these contradictions are doing to you. It's all just getting messed up in your mind." The desperation in her eyes makes something inside me shrivel in fear. Have I really done all that?

"So, just stop. Just breathe, and ask yourself, Lovi… what is it that you would like? What do you want to happen? Focus on that, and just that. It doesn't matter if things have gone that way, or the other way; it doesn't matter. Forget everything you know, and just think of what you yourself would like to see, to feel."

"Just leave behind everything you know, and think of your happiness." She pauses, and her grip loosens. "If you pretend you don't know anything, you won't be confused by what you see now. Focus on what's there now, not what you think went on before. Then, once you know what's going on, then maybe, we can work out this mystery."

I can't help but feel a little odd at that. What she said was certainly uplifting, and okay, kind of enlightening, but I still don't get all of it. What's going on now – _before?_

She seems to have understood my confusion; she sighs (in a pleasant way, like relief) and lets me go altogether.

"What I mean is, well… " She looks up at the ceiling for a second, a pondering look on her face. I just hope she doesn't think I'm stupid – no, I pause, this is Elise. The Elise I know - knew, maybe – would never think that about anybody.

"You know what?" With a sudden burst and the quick bloom of a grin, I can almost see the little golden lightbulb above her head. "I've got it. All I need you to do is just pretend you lost _all_ of your memories before – well, whatever happened. Pretend nothing happened before the crash, or the faint, or whatever."

"Why?"

"Lovi, we're going to do this the easy way." She grabs my hand again, and I feel like her partner in the school three-legged race however many years ago it was. (She almost left my tied leg crippled.)

"We're going to resume the party."

* * *

If that clock ticks any more, I think I'll smash the thing.

I don't understand how anybody, even Tomato Bastard, can sleep with that thing in his room. It's loud and beating and ticking and tocking like huge footsteps, so unlike the quiet taps of movement you get from virtually any other clock.

I'm just thankful it doesn't have a cuckoo in it. If it did, I'd have killed it already.

How much longer will I have to wait here? I'm hot and frustrated and I can't open the fucking window. There are people downstairs, I can hear that, and I'm sure they aren't strangers – or at least weren't strangers to me when I knew things. _Back then. Five years ago._

I run a fingertip down the nail on my right index finger; it's worn away a little. I'd found a stain on my shirt – the only shirt I've worn since I came to the house. It smells foreign and odd, and before I couldn't stop myself picking at the discoloured thread at the bottom and trying to scrape away that tiny stain that continued to stare and stare at me in its slightly darker glory.

_No-one'll notice._ I noticed.

I shift around on the bed, shuffling closer to a corner, the strange pain in my side no longer surging, but ebbing and flowing now, growing softer. Just like a product of my imagination, it's all going away. Almost gone. I've barely noticed the thing in the last few hours of boredom.

I stop for a moment and ponder the pain. If I remember correctly, that pain had to be from being hit by the car. And unless I fell sideways or something, it couldn't have been caused by me fainting. I don't remember fainting anyway.

When Elise had said to me that not remembering it was not a problem, I felt a little calmer. Then she asked if I remembered feeling dizzy, and I replied to her that no, I didn't. I only remember the night at Gilbert's, on the 15th of August of 2012.

If that pain is really going, then I think I'm healing. But why the pain in the first place? If it was really a faint, why am I feeling the pain from a crash that never happened?

But then, if it never happened… does that mean that Feliciano and I are genuinely married? To each other?

I don't know. I look up at the ceiling, laying back on the much more comfortable bed. What would that be like?

It irks me, to begin with. Men. _Brothers._ I shiver. So wrong, incorrect at every angle. It's not what we were supposed to be. We were not meant to fall in love.

The question is, though, were – are - we really in love?

How, then? How did we go about it, if it really is true? We couldn't have just said it to each other's faces like any other thing. I wouldn't have, at least, and how would I feel if Feliciano said that he felt about me in a way he shouldn't feel?

How would I –

…I'd push him away, wouldn't I? I'd get angry and swear at him and shout. I'd do anything to show him how wrong he was. I'd shame him, scorn him, blast him with hurtful words and worse doings. I'd go as far as to almost…

…almost… almost…

…almost _kill _my little brother.

How would I feel if that was me? How would I deal with the fallout? And even so, how would I be able to cope? How would I live, having to put up with not only a family member, but a person I lived with, that wanted me to love them?

I feel like I'm going to be sick. I'm a sick fucking bastard. I deserve to die.

Feliciano only kissed me. And maybe, just maybe, he was drunk. He didn't know what to say. He was probably just as confused as me. And scared. I really was scared back then. I wanted to shrivel up like an old prune and die on the spot. It hurt me, and I didn't think about how much he'd been hurt by me.

He wasn't to blame. It was me. All me.

And even if that didn't happen, and this marriage is all real, then what did I do? I rejected something he needed after he didn't leave me, after he supported me, after he… _loved me._

I didn't listen. It's all my fault.

There's a creak and a swing of hinges, and emerald-leaf eyes peer in from outside. She's calling. I can go downstairs now.

I'm scared. I don't know what to do. My heart is running away, leaving behind the blood and the pain inside of my chest to pound and scorch, scorch away far more than any physical pain I felt before – it has all gone now with this new thought, new knowledge, new realisation. I can never tell her this.

_I killed Feliciano. _

"Come on, then. Everyone's waiting."

I don't want to see anyone. If everyone's there, I might as well die of shame. I can't talk to anybody about this. I just can't. "Elise, _no._ Please."

She sighs, and some part of me can feel she's tired of dealing with me. I know I've got to pull myself together and all that shit, but what can I do? I can't do this. Silently, I give her a look that confirms my answer.

"Lovi, please. Just… just do it once. You know, for me. Please. I'm counting on you."

"For what?"

"I'm counting on you because I thought you were brave, Lovino. I thought you weren't a coward. I thought you could at least deal with something as simple as this."

I'm not a coward. You try going through this. "You don't understand."

My hand is grabbed and there's a tug, so sharp I feel almost like the limb's been pulled out altogether.

"Are you going to face this? Are you? Like a man, Lovino? Or are you just a… _a dick of a coward?_ Are you just going to let yourself rot? Or will you keep going? Will you _keep yourself aliv_e, for hell's sake?"

I'm alive as it is. I don't need anything more. I don't want this. I can't bear this. I'd rather die. In fact, now, I'm sure death would be less painful. I don't know.

I don't know what dying's like. Maybe, you know, I've died already, and I've ended up five years in this fucking twisted idea of a future. Yeah, if the car hit me, and there was the pain – _so it did happen, didn't it?_ –

"Look, if you're going to be this way, have it. Stay up here. I'm not bothered. Kill yourself if you want." There's a spitting sound in her voice, and I don't know where the happy, smiley Elise has gone. Her footsteps sound savage as they strike the floorboards, and the question has not yet left my brain.

Am I really… denying myself something? A chance to change things, to at least find out what the hell happened to me? If I stay, will I end up here – this place, or time, that I don't know – forever? And I'll be alone, and nobody will care?

Inner Lovino has committed suicide over the matter. I'm not listening.

"Fine." Elise stops in her tracks. I knew she'd never mean what she said. So typically Elise of her.

"I'm going. Just don't make a fuss or anything."

* * *

The silence around me – all over the room – is indescribable. Not even 'quiet' suits it, simply because it's too quiet to be called that? 'Silent' just doesn't work. I can't say 'dead' either, because that word hurts too much.

Everyone is moving, and there is noise everywhere, and laughter and warmth and even cake on the table, but inside, to me, it is anything but.

A thousand swirling eyes, all staring at me. A moment of stillness, in which I am not in the living room of friends, surrounded by the people I knew before, but instead, an ice palace of crystal statues, and none of the faces I recognise.

Alfred Jones, that 'kid-next-door' sort of guy everyone knows and loves, is clutching a magazine, rolled up and tight in his hands. On the cover – I can see it, almost like I've drifted out of my body, and my ghost is looking at an object several metres away and seeing it with perfect clarity – is a smiling, bright image of his brother.

Matthew, the opposite. The quiet, odd kid who never got noticed. The guy whose name you could ask a thousand times, and still manage to forget it. Wavy locks the colour of straw, glasses intact, _him. _Can't be anyone else. The headline – _The Voice of a Generation – Matthew Williams Reveals All_ - is unbelievable.

For a blink, a nonexistent second, my eyes – all of me – hovers to the corner. Arthur and Francis are fighting again, Francis reaching for what seems to be Artie's arse (so typical) and said green-eyed grump pushing him away as usual, but there's something different. A twinkle in his eyes – the beginnings of revenge brewing on the corner of his lips, playful revenge. The same sparkle in the pervert's own blue orbs. I can finally see what colour they are.

The glint in their paused eyes and spirits makes my gaze fall, and their hands ensnare it once again. Two hands, held behind, unseen, behind the groping and reaching. Gold. Twice. Marriage.

_Nonsense –_

Third blink, like a swoosh! – and I'm in a different corner of the world. The room, precisely, but it is so strange that I can only compare it to this. Ludwig Beilschmidt, blonde, gay and German. Hate his sorry arsehole. His voice, I remember, is harsh and as unwelcoming as the frost in his eyes. Forever, I remember, with Feliciano. Forever, I remember, the two inseparable. Best _friends for life._

How dare he! (Why the hell am I jealous? …Why the hell do I hate him so much anyway?)

But I feel sorry for him. He's all alone, and unnoticed, silent in the corner. He's looking away somewhere, into the room, nowhere, and I can't see his eyes anymore. I'd had to deal with him so many times, and it had taught me to tell apart his shades – calm in silence, deep and storm-ridden in a burst of anger – and I couldn't even see that now.

I hear an echo, a slate-rough voice that somehow remains gentle. _Why can't we ever tell?_

It is only then that I recognise what – no, who – he is looking at, and it just doesn't work, and not just by the fact that I know Potato-Head is gay.

_Blonde Romeo… and Juliet._

Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm not me anymore. I'm a disembodied ghost. I feel ill. It's all spinning. Around, and around, and the pain's in my head now, playing and dancing like a rabid hound, like hellfire, because it burns my head. Fish are circling a phantom pool in my head, the water rippling, whirlpooling. Elise's voice rings out, sharp and sudden in this slow mess – "Lovi!"

- and my head hits the floor.

* * *

_Somewhere, in another world - two men, one in a hospital bed and as blank as fresh paper, reaches and collides. The other, younger and wide-eyed in shock, is the victim of quick, sudden love._

_Feliciano Vargas silently screams._

* * *

**end of 2.3**


	5. Pt2: Losing My Mind: 24

**My Wonderful Husband**

**WARNING - I can't believe I started this as a romcom. Either way, it evolved as I wrote and developed new twists, and as a result, it's not a romcom anymore. It's more of a mystery with a hint of sci-fi, and that's been established now for some time. Hope you keep up with it anyway!**

It's all in here. The mystery's most important details… and a lot of craziness. **Longest chapter so far.**

Listening to 'Time' by Pink Floyd got me writing like a God-knows-what. (Amazing song, listen if you can.) The first line, by the way, is not a reference to another Pink Floyd song. I just happened to write that in. :)

Most importantly, **dA readers received an extra journal notice from me concerning a renaming. guys, feel free to join in. The note is here. (get rid of the spaces and change * to . ) ****talon -heartless *deviantart* com/ #/d59aups** Feel free to comment in a review or PM, whatever.

…**and for a bit of fun, find Amerimochi! (he's hiding in this chapter...)**

* * *

**With love!:**

**Fanfiction  
****Aestiva, xMusicxIsxMyxEscapex, virelay, LuluLovely – **thank you so much!  
**Winter Cocoa – **it's fine if you didn't realise. It clears up soon.  
**IrisTheFlower – **Happy to make you happy! Continuing now!  
**xVanishedLullabys – **Well, there's only two or three more bits after this!  
**ScienceWolf – **I hope I cleared up at least something!  
**Xaphrielle **– you're cracking it! (at least, some of it…)  
**ManifestDoom **– I'll stop trolling – I mean toying with you in here! (jokes!)  
**Losavech **– oh, thank you! Love you so much, both of you…  
**Kaiya Nightroad** - *warm, fuzzy feelings everywhere*

**_Sink or swim?_ It's all down to this…**

* * *

**2.4**

Is there anybody out there?

Talk to me, please. I need somebody beyond this existence. Tell me. Why am I in this nightmare? Am I trapped here for the rest of my time? And what if I've died – is this the broken, twisted afterlife? Why are there no tears running down my face?

I feel hot, burning all over. I feel the same way as the way I feel whenever I am crying. Hot and unwanting the feeling. Too hot. Hot enough to squeeze tears out of my eyes, but why are there no drops?

Why is my body so still, so unmoving? Why am I alive, but so, so dead? Inanimate, unwanted? A foreign soul in a body that won't respond? Am I a virus, a parasite just there to hack away as it lives, leaving nothing but an enraptured shell in its wake?

Please, somebody. I've atoned for my sins. I want to leave here. I've been sick, sick in the head and I've wanted to vomit too, but my innards won't cooperate. I want to get away from here. Back home. I don't care what happens to me there, if nobody speaks to me ever again, but I can't live like this. If I've died, then dear God, or whoever is there, Great Spirit or Holy Father or somebody, I'm begging you. Please, whoever, whatever is out there.

_Save me._

* * *

Waking up is a painful feeling. I guess if it's this painful every time, how much more pain will I have to face? It hurts me inside; my guts are strangled. My side stings once more, fading to a softer hum throughout, as the time before. I think of how much the pain has petered out – and then there's the light.

_The same light, shining wretched. The wretched red bedroom._

_Agh…!_

I plummet back down and close my eyes.

Why this? Fuck this, help me. If you're not going to help me, you know, I'll help myself, whoever's out there. I'll go do the job myself. I can find a knife, you know, easily, without a problem, and I won't be afraid to cut. I won't be afraid of looking down, then, and you know why? Because I know I can do things myself, and I am not just any old weak 'dick of a coward' – _take that, Elise! I hope you choke!_ – and I'm not scared. I can make my own choices, you know. I can stop this any time I like. Heck, fuck, I don't care. Do what you want.

Dear God, whoever, if this is your idea of fun – watching me suffer and having a poke at me – then I don't want to play. I'm leaving. Goodbye. Toodles. Cheers. _Byesie-bye._

_Fuck._ See? I'm not doing myself any favours at all. You can see that. You don't want this shit. I mean, what's the fun of watching a sick lunatic prancing around with fish swimming in his brain and him not actually wanting to be there?

Get off me. Whoever just touched me there – on the face – get off. Now. You'd better be listening, or I'll have you know I can fight back. Stop. Stop. Stop it now. Can you hear me? You listening? _Hello -_

The moment my eyelids burst open, I know I haven't actually said anything.

"You… again?" Yes, him. Feliciano. Brother dear. Flushed and rosy, eyes wide as Bambi's. And why is it that only once you say something, does the way you've actually said it sink in?

I've spat at him. Fuck, why can't I even be nice to him? Why am I always like this? I curse myself under my breath, and looking back at Feliciano, I can see he thinks I've cursed at him.

He must hate me now, surely. I'd hate myself, now that I think about it. And yet, he's still here. There's still the same worry in his eyes, and he's just as scared as I remember him – back in the world, the present I knew. Back when we were just two boys, two brothers; back when the idea of us kissing, let alone being married, sounded plain absurd. I guess the idea still seems strange to me, but then, in this world…

"Shit." I say it louder this time, but all that comes out is a croak. It's still strong enough, though; he jerks upwards from his head-down-in-shame sort-of state and looks at me again, and just by looking back at him, I can tell his throat's dry and he's cold inside with fear, and I can see that he's trembling in front of me.

He's scared of his own brother. Marriage or no marriage, as he said before, we're still brothers.

_Is this what it's come to?_

"Feli… stop, please." Will he listen? I pray that he will. "Don't be scared. Please, just listen." There's a drought in the place I think is my throat – I'm not actually sure of anything anymore. "Please. Don't go."

He swallows what seems to be a heavy lump in his throat, taking – ever so slowly – two tiny steps forward. His breaths seem heavy, and all I can think of is the night of the party – of bloody August the fifteenth year 2012 – screaming at the same little cowering human being that is my little brother.

If this is a future, or a strange dream of sorts, then I can't believe just how little his eyes have changed. There are small lights flickering in them, life scurrying to and fro in search of a hiding place. The same fear.

And beyond them – yes, I'm going in there – such colour, such brightness. Something like tree-bark merging into a field of marigold petals; honey so sweet you could see the bear reaching into the hive to pull out the sticky, sun-coloured delight... Indescribable, in a sense; it's amazing what you can actually see in a person's eyes, beauty, depth, a flurry of colours…

"Lovi?"

I'm awake again – wasn't I awake already? "Oh, Feli…" and I'm out of words again. "Feli, I beg you, please, don't leave me – I'm really sorry, and I just don't know what the hell's been going on with me and everything, and I don't know why I can't remember anything, but I'm just so sorry, please, Feli, forgive me, just forgive - "

I don't get to finish, because already he's dropped to his knees by the bedside and his arms are already wrapped around my chest and it all feels right. Right, in a way I though would always be wrong. An innocent hug, but something so simple carries such a meaningful message; far more than simple love.

"I forgive you… oh, Lovi…" he whispers – no, half-cries – into my neck, his warmth spreading and his breath sending pleasant comfort into me. I can feel he's about to cry, and I hug him back, even though I'm still lying awkwardly on this bed and I still have no idea what happened to me.

Maybe it is true. Maybe I did forget. Maybe – no, I know this, this feels right and perfect and warm and living to me. This is happiness. And even if it isn't real, I want this to remain. Maybe, then, I'll just pretend I forgot, and then everything will go like Elise wanted; we can get me to remember and I'll forget the shit that happened on that night, and we'll all live happily ever after.

_Am I prepared?_ A distant thought is pestering me, but I've left it far behind.

"Feli, oh, Feli…" My mind is still trying to wake up, and I realise that I still have a mountain of questions about this place, this time. I need to know just how real this is, then I can judge if this is reality or not.

I feel his hold relaxing, and I do the same, almost a mirror to his actions, and find myself staring back into his beautiful – did I just think that? – eyes. "Feli, but you know… will you help me? If I can't remember… will you tell me what's happened? What have I forgotten, then?"

He nods, swallowing what must feel like a world of worry. "I'll help you, Lovi. I'll always help you." With that, I feel him nuzzling my neck, and I just feel warmer, if not a little less awkward. His voice quakes as if it's the end of the world.

_He feels that much about me?_

And yes, we're still tangled up in each other, and he's almost begging for comfort. Muscles straining in stiffness, I shove myself a little closer to the centre of the bed, and when he looks at me in worry, I silently beckon him off the floor. With that, and a little nervousness in his actions, he follows me, sitting on the bed next to me, kicking off his shoes and letting his legs join the rest of him on the bed, still seated.

I begin. "So, well, don't think badly of me, but… _are we actually married?"_

He looks down for a few moments, and I can feel his cheeks heating up. Almost like telepathy, the awkwardness has spread and infected me. He then, silently, makes a swallow. And nods.

"Yes."

That's it.

"Well, not really _married _married… at least, not in a church, with bells and pretty bridesmaids…" His eyes have wandered to the ceiling; they always used to do that back when I knew the world. At least, it always happened when he was nervous. I make no sounds in response, letting him carry on his story.

"Toni married us, in our back garden." The hopeful look blooms, slowly, into a careful smile. He's remembering. Before I can even think, the warmth of his body next to me has leapt away, and Feliciano's feet have carried him to the other side of the room, hands reaching to the top of a chest of drawers. From there, I see him take something off there, checking for dust but finding none.

When he takes it firmly in his hands, I mentally slap myself for not noticing the picture frame, but then ponder that it must have fallen down, or just not have been standing at the time. It's not huge, but it's not tiny either.

He slips down, then, into exactly the same position as before, but different in a way – he is much closer now. Reaching out, he reveals the image before me, and gently, with only fingertips, I trace the frame's wooden edges.

Wood always smelled strongly, and now there is no exception. My eyes have gone to a different direction. A medley of everyone I know, a few new faces, perhaps some absences, but overall an atmosphere of sunlight. Blue sky background, but you can just tell that it is the back garden I knew. Same old brown fence; I'm surprised we haven't got the thing fixed.

We're all in our best – well, from the looks of things, I doubt it'll ever be our best clothing again – and in a rough-and-tumble mess all over the place. I spy Elizabeta; a bright orange lily in her hair, the cream in her hair not doing anything to its sunny perfection. Alfred's got a big white blob on his head, and on that blob are his glasses. (I stifle a giggle at that… nice one.)

On the further right, even Ludwig fucking gay-or-not-gay Beilschmidt looks creamed. His brother Gilbert – speaking of which, where was he? I didn't see him before – could pass for the Abominable Snowman. The hair's not helping.

Elise is there too, her dress a rough-and-tumble-mess, and out of the corner of my eye, I spy a stray hand belonging to Antonio Fernandez Carriedo – right where it really shouldn't be. She doesn't seem to be minding it.

And there we are. I feel my heart beating far faster than it should be. Towards the centre, Feli in a crazy sort of embrace around my waist, leaning on me so hard I'm leaning and about to fall. Covered in cake, both of us.

And we're happy. Smiling – even me – like a pair of idiots. All of us, a crazy, loud mob, cream-covered and laughing. I can't believe we were in that mess; but it somehow looks enjoyable. Somehow, I actually feel like part of that picture, and not by the sense that I was stuck in or Photoshopped or something, but actually, I feel as if I have lived there, even if the memory never existed.

There's no sound. Nothing. I believe it. It's there, and for some reason, I am not doubting it. I could force myself to doubt, but something inside won't let me. It would be like saying I was a woman, or that I had blonde hair, or I was…

Please, don't make me think. It still hurts, and though it's all fading away, it's not over. I don't know when it will end. I don't feel like asking. Who would answer, anyway?

"We had a sort-of wedding… not much, but it was perfect. We did have cake, though." He giggles as he says that last part, and I want to join in with him. My throat denies it; it's still too Sahara-like to fully express my feelings. "A lot of cake."

No shit, Sherlock – "But we were happy."

Happy? What does that mean, now? Does that mean… we actually did it for fun? We wanted to get married? We really… were… in love…? It's still not fully comprehendible, but maybe it will change. It has to make sense with time. I just don't know enough.

To know – to find out – is my mission. Silently, I thank Elise de Smet. _She'll never know that._

Knowing this, knowing about the marriage has yet to change a thing. Still, I do not feel like the man next to me is my husband – wait, wife? What the –

"Feli, wait… if you know, we're supposedly married…" There's nothing official about a guy called Antonio impersonating a priest in a garden (is that even legal?) and I've lost the words again. "Are we husband and wife… or wait, is there even a wife?"

The idea of me in a white dress is making me more suicidal the longer I think about it. Flush the thought out, please.

He's gone red again. I always remember Feliciano cringing at the slightest bit of awkwardness in a situation. "Well…" And with a pause, I think to myself, wondering if he actually knows. I've ruled out the possibility of it all being a prank by now – there's not been one flaw in the plan, and that just can't be it, in that case.

"Husband and husband… We, did, um, talk a bit about who the wife was going to be, but we couldn't decide."

Looking back, I can actually see we're both in trousers. I feel ashamed now for not noticing. At that very moment the dress fantasy switches to Feliciano, and now that I think about it, he must have resisted a lot. I wouldn't have minded him being my bride –

_Lovino Vargas, lift your arm and slap yourself (mentally). That's just sick. Think about something else, shall we? What else…?_

"Did we have rings?" Looking at both my hands, twitching the fingers; can't feel any new weight.

"Y-yes. We did. I took yours off after you fainted, and I'm not wearing mine now. I… I just didn't know if I should wear it after the hospital…" His voice has collected an unwanted stutter, and through it, the word 'fainted' sings half-correctly.

"And, um…" he continues, "We couldn't let anyone else see our rings. I mean, only our friends know. We're all keeping it our special secret."

So wait a second. It's not official, I doubt it's even legal, and it's a secret to the world minus twenty people? "Secret?"

Feliciano's thumbs find each other and he twiddles them together in apprehension. He's never been that good with confessing – and now that I think of it, I realise the hardship of that night – how could he have explained any sort of kiss, let alone a drunken one? "Well, we all decided not to tell anybody else… Because, you know, we're still family -"

"So wait, we're still brothers?"

A simple, court nod. "Uh-huh."

Well, that gives me a cushion to fall back on. Terminating all we had as family would have been the nervous death of me.

_Family. Shit shit shit_ - "Wait, what about Mum and Dad? Do they, um, know?" Now that it's obvious, how would they have reacted? What would they feel, knowing their two sons – for whom they probably had hopes of proper weddings, of at least grandchildren? What would they have thought?

How would they feel, knowing that their two children, already blood-related and born from the same womb, were sleeping with one another – and not in the way we did as nightmare-ridden children? Two men? Two sons, two legacies – _broken!_

I'm surprised I'm still alive, even in here. Even in this time, this space.

"Yeah… they know." My partner – _my brother_ – can only make an attempt to swallow his trembling. The aftertaste in my own mouth is bitter. "They didn't take it too well. We… we'd been together for a few months, and… and… they caught us." With a guilty look, he gulps, and our eye contact is perfect.

"Mum nearly called the police…"

_Oh my God. _Eyes widen; a shiver worms its way down my spine. _Oh my God. Oh my God._ "No…"

In a silent shame that must be equally mine, he drops his sight to the floor. I can feel the scorching burn of his skin, even without the touch. "Well, she did calm down. She… she was just shocked. Dad, too," and he looks at me again, somewhat reassured. "They did accept it, in the end. They said… if it makes us happy, they'd try to accept that. I guess they did, though." A new, quick smile dances on. "They sent us their best wishes for the wedding. And flowers."

That must have been reassuring. I sigh, my heartbeat slowing to normality from its sudden, panicking rush. "So, they didn't come?"

Maybe, just maybe, there's a little sadness in his gaze; he was always the family's boy. I remember my old distance, and only now do the sour-tongued words singe. "No… they couldn't come this time. They've retired now, to Tuscany somewhere… we got left the house."

"So, we're all alone in there, right?" I don't wait for an answer; it's already too obvious. The thought of just us two, us in our house, seems strange, like two toddlers in a mansion. It just feels bigger now, with that simple knowledge.

Mum's not there to pester me about my room yet, and Dad's not there to give Feliciano pointers on where to put the green or if that purple is dark enough yet. Quiet, all alone; you must be able to hear the floorboards creak.

Alone – _oh, shit –_

"Hold on, Feli. Stop. Just… just tell me this straight," (no puns, please – it's already awful as it is,) "Have we ever, you know…" (Why am I looking down - and why are my fingers suddenly so interesting?)

Clueless look. "Huh?" Those eyes, that face. Too cute _– fuck -_

I've just got to blurt it out. "Have we ever had sex, Feli?" Well, there it goes. _Can I die now? _But the moment stays silent, the blank white noise of a pregnant pause still hanging there. There's nothing. Not even a fly buzzing. I look up, and we eye each other in silence. He doesn't move, and neither do I. At least I had the courage to ask.

He nods.

_Fucking hell._

An awkward smile graces his features, and my brain begins the slow process of thought and comprehension. What would it be like, then? What would touching him be like? Would he touch me? How does love – that sort of love – feel? With my brother – my sibling – _my husband_?

Our fingers brush against one another, and a little warmth tickles me. It feels reassuring, in a way; like a simplified answer to the question. My muscles feel movement again, previous paralysis fading, as the shock of the situation dissipates. And yet, it feels a little… good. Normal – in the way that says _yes, this is right, this is good, you like this, Lovino._

I can't escape this wretched love, can I?

It must be this place, or time – it's doing all this to me. Just because everyone thinks I'm supposed to love him – I feel this way. Only because of that, though. It can't be that I'm actually in love with him.

_Answer me, Lovino Vargas – that kiss felt good, didn't it?_

Maybe it did, maybe. But it was after a bit of drink, and it was only one night…

One night, just a little bit. Five years later, (let's say this is the future, because I just don't know) here we are now. In love, supposedly. Strange as it sounds.

How did it happen, then? How did we go from a pair of brothers who couldn't be any more different - him clinging like a child, me telling him to stop that now, he was eighteen, for God's sake – and then, look at this now. Husbands. Married – albeit unofficially. Alone at home. Sleeping together.

How did it all go so… right? Wrong? Which way is it, even?

"Whoa." I just manage to breathe out my reaction to the nod. My mind's in slow motion. Still on the pause button, huh _– shut up, you, shut up…_

"I, er… didn't expect that - I-I mean I forgot about that!" _Stupid mind, stupid time, stupid things in my head, fuck… _Any minute now, I'm going to turn into a lunatic and jump out of the window and _fuck this_, I can't even talk to him anymore, but then, answer this, how are you supposed to ask your brother how you started fucking him?

Gently, his hand glides over to my shoulder, soothing softly, and I feel the jittery feeling cool down again. Much better, I think to myself. He's awfully good at this.

Or maybe I just like him touching me. I never thought of it like that, but no. It can't be that way, can it? He's my family, isn't he?

Finally, I stutter out the question. "So, um… how did it start? You know, um… how did we get together?" Still, saying the words makes me feel strange, like stiff clothes or an unfamiliar taste I know I'll have to get used to.

More silence, but we're still together like this. He's not letting go, and I don't actually want him to. We can be like this for a bit, can't we? At least, just for now. I remember having to deal with the Feliciano I knew – he was there, always wanting to be close, as if he had not yet realised that he was an adult. I guess that really was Feli's spirit – forever young, forever innocent enough to see the world for all its beauty.

And then, _me._ He sees light, and I just see darkness. I see anger and sadness behind even the brightest of smiles, and I wish for that sadness. He doesn't, and I've never been like that.

So, please. Let us be close for a bit, as a family. That sort of thing is what I know I'll never get in my own reality. Even if he thinks it's love, I don't care. I just want a few moments of this comfort. How am I to go back and ask the Feliciano I know to hold me, without him being surprised and wondering if the world has turned upside down?

It's my world that's upside down, and now, it's my time.

He answers, and I've been too lost in thought to know if he was nervous enough to pause or not. "We… well, it was only an accident. We, um… we were at a party-"

_Fucking parties - _

"-and… I think we got drunk. I can't remember it a lot, but we got pulled in to some game or something, and we kissed…"

_Game? __Déjà vu__ is like a lightning bolt._

"…and we, well…" Nervous eyes, nervous eyes, Feli – "We went too far, and, um… we woke up together in another room…"

A shiver bolts up my spine, before screeching down once more in the space of a second.

"We didn't talk for a week after that, but…" He pauses, and once again, I can feel him getting worried; his hands feel damp upon my shoulders, support beginning to fail. "We talked, in the end, and we decided to try something together. You said we'd get off it… but we didn't…"

"So now that's how far it's gone?"

Nod.

"Wait, Feli, one more thing… how long ago was that party? How long have we been together – or whatever – for?"

Removing his right hand from me, his eyes look down and for a moment, he resembles a five-year-old counting on his fingers, memories scrambled with inexperience – but then, that's Feli. He was never sure of anything, my Feli.

He is not _mine _-

"Five years ago, I think. It was at Gilbert's…"

Eyes like saucers in a blink. System crashes. Inner glass shatters. I can hear the bang of the bullet that is my brain crashing. Silence, mute button. Smack. Crack. Bird crashes into a window, feathers all over. Plummeting, screech –

"Oh my God…" Everything's frozen, and now, there's cracks in the ice. Spring has come. "Oh my God…"

"Feliciano… wait. I remember that… but, but I stopped you… I ran out, we had an argument, I shouted, you ran out, I went after you, then the car - " It's all falling apart, yet putting itself back together. This isn't what it seems to be. "-and you guys all think I fainted, and I thought there was a crash, but there was no crash five years ago in this world…" This isn't the world as I knew it. _The past isn't the same._

_This isn't my future._

"Feli, listen to me, I haven't forgotten. It was all different in my past, and now I know, it isn't me, or you, it's all something -" My hands grip his shoulders now, tight in an epiphany of sorts. I'm still not sure what this is, but I know what it isn't.

_This isn't my world._

"W-what?" he stutters out, looking flush with confusion. My mouth must have blared the words out so fast that I must have confused him. I couldn't stop myself anyway, and I can't, I'm on a roll here…

There's something else that's strange about this, though. How do I know there's only the event five years ago that's different?

"Feli, don't freak out, but there's something I want you to do." I pause, and wonder how I'm going to ask him _this._ "I want you to kiss me."

If there's one thing I need to know, it's this. I need to confirm something. Not for the sake of working out what has happened to me, but for the sake of knowing something personal.

Here, I love him. _And back there…?_

He still hasn't responded, seconds later, eyes still wide with shock – and such a cute expression. Not quite flustered or curious, just a little confused, and rather adorable for my tastes. My hands begin to itch.

"What – why?" He doesn't quite finish, though; the wait is just maddening, and I can't handle it anymore. In an instant, my hands are on his face, and I'm initiating the contact, lips meeting with a soft, yet firm pressure. Even as it continues – and I cannot stop – he makes little movement, only kissing back a few seconds later, when I feel his heart recovering from the sudden panic, and then, it is perfect.

_Yes. Oh my God. This is it._ I want this, only this feeling, of it being more than accidental; and even though something inside me lurches and screams from the knowledge that _yes, this is wrong, this is horrible_, Lovino – but the rest of me knows only the opposite.

There is nothing more correct than this. It's clumsy, it's sloppy and the photograph lays forgotten, but there is no other answer. My tongue edges into the kiss, lapping, asking, commanding; his responds. Sweet, tinged with spices, with a warm, velvet-like sort of moisture; I feel a pleasant warmth spreading through me – and nostalgia, the bloody nostalgia of that night and its own drunken kiss –

But this kiss isn't drunken. And neither was that one.

_Lousy excuse._

Still continuing, but slowing down, giving us both a little breath from the happiness before it floods, so perfect, so happy –

**_!_**

A sudden flare strikes up inside me. I pull away instantly, and with that very action, another flare. More of a shock this time, it twinges in my head; a third strike feels like cracking ice.

I let out a sudden, unwanted moan of pain, the strikes growing in intensity, second by second, blink by blink, lightning and cold and blistering heat striking and shocking in the back of my head. My hands run through my hair, searching for the source, holding my head in my hands like the whole of my skull will suddenly explode -

"Lovi! What's wrong?" I can't answer, it's spreading, it hurts…

"Aargh!" A small scream this time, like a contraction of the brain, my bones suddenly feeling like spears and digging in, claw-like, to my flesh, hurting, stabbing even through the absence of blood, hurting –

I scream – and he screams, a tear in the corner of his eye – and it's all dark, and swirling, and different, and it hurts all over me, my side a blaze of destruction; a bomb being dropped onto a city of flesh -

Eyes open – water, teal and black mess, soaked and choking, an infinite depth of ocean all around me. Feeling it press down onto my whole body, I feel as if I will sink if I do not move. Stretching out limbs that feel as if they have rested in the foetal position for a lifetime, I feel the plummet and its brutality soften, from razors to blunt stones, still hurting but not stinging. The falling stops, and I look up into the shining light suddenly showing above the water, and I know I need to swim there – and I'm losing breath.

But no; I can only flounder and paddle, like a child with no swimming experience to its name, arms and legs in half-paralysis, and I can't even swim upwards, at least, not properly.

To the side, forward? Squinting, I try – and even with tiny strokes that are at most, splashes, I can only just –

_Ow!_

My head feels sore again, but in a way that is more different. More usual. I can just see what caused it – and that makes me freeze up inside.

Glass. A wall. _Am I in a tank?_ I swam into this thing? Wait, why am I floating like this, when I clearly should be sinking? And why am I submerged, but there's light up there? Did I fall, or get dropped into here? Am I alive? Can I breathe?

This is water -

_Breathe, you! Breathe – _no, what the hell?

_Stop. Calm. Relax._

It takes me a mere moment that seems to last a lifetime to realise how little I need to breathe. Calming, soothing my body; that takes seconds before I am not focusing on breath. I will not drown here. I do not need to breathe.

Staring back at the glass, my eyes seem to be seeing things just as fine as they do in the air. The water does not sting, nor does it flood. I can keep them open without any pain, and my vision is not altered.

Am I even in water?

In the glass, I can see my reflection. Paler than normal and with not a trace of clothing. Silently, I sigh; a few bubbles stream from my mouth, but I am not choking. I have enough air. I feel that. At least, I am alone, and there is nobody to see me in this state. For a moment, wishing for reassurance, I press my palm against the sudden cold of the glass.

Ice surges through me, making me shiver. Bolts fire through my veins, energizing and storming inside of me. It doesn't feel frightening, though; deep in the murkiness of the water, the glass gives me a sense of comfort, knowing that there is grip and safety, at least here.

Gazing through, back at my reflection, I can see every line perfectly. My eyes trace the contours of my mirror-image, from cheekbone to hairline to emerald-shining eyes, still bright in the shade. I blink at it.

It doesn't blink back.

At first, it's not even noticeable, not with a small thing like a blink. Looking around a little, uncertain if I've had a hallucination or not, I notice something else.

It's not touching the glass – but I am. Floating, just by its sides, idly as nothing. Still looking at me. I look back, and then it blinks.

_What the hell…?_

But then, the tables turn and the world reverses – its right hand and arm move. Mine stay still, idly floating.

I feel my eyes widen in shock. This can't be a reflection. _This cannot be water._

I try to make a sound, but nothing seems to be working inside. I'm still frozen up. The reflection moves again then, distancing itself from me. I still can't move, nor respond; at least until the reflection flicks its hand out to me, in a gesture I clearly understand. No words.

_Move back._

My head feels heavier upon my shoulders – heavier than normal, like a spreading, swirling headache flowing around my brain – and I suddenly find it impossible to nod. Instead, without my mind's own approval, my toes touch the glass – and this time it's freezing – and gently, but somehow powerfully, kick off the transparent wall.

Heavy arms try to push outward, and now even with effort, my fingertips struggle to reach. All sense of movement stops, and I am away from the wall. The haunting reflection stares on. In silence, with not a bubble of empty speech, it nods its head.

Slowly, pushing and forcing back the teal liquid around us both, it moves back only its right arm; the very arm that had beckoned me away. Back, muscles flexing wordlessly, gathering strength, preparing for something, its expression furrowing in concentration – pausing – another nod – then -

It's only once it's too late that I realise what it's doing -

"_Fucking- !" _I get the guts to scream -

_- and the glass has shattered._

**end of part 2**


	6. Pt3: Losing This World: 31

**My Wonderful Husband**

**I'M SO SORRY FOR ALL THE MIND-EFFING (and waiting – been busy, and working on new stuff)! KILL ME NOW. Anyway, the current decision is that I will continue to the end, since there's only a bit left. Then, maybe, I'll rewrite it. Don't know yet.**

…**So, welcome back, and welcome to Part 3. This is the last part, and will only have 3 chapters, one of which will be an epilogue.**

**So, what is the real mystery concerning Romano, the car crash… and wherever Romano ended up? This reveals all.**

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**Forgive me, please…!: (sorry if I forgot you)**

**Fanfiction**

**AliceVargas, Scarlet daydreamer, Angel of Awesomness, shinigamiryuk919, Artemis1000 **– cheers!  
**Perpetual Dreams** – hope this will uncover it all, but I'm glad you like it!  
**xVanishedLullabys** – I'll get to work on something soon! I'm terribly busy, but I'll try my best!  
**ScienceWolf **– I can now confirm this – You're right! *cheers*  
**Kaiya Nightroad** – thanks so much… *hug*  
**Roza Kirkland** – thank you! And I agree, he was pretty damn shocked… (extra note – I REMEMBER YOU!)  
**Losavech **– thank you thank you thank you!  
**Artemis1000 **– You're right too, and here's your continuation!  
**Scarlet Ribbon** – thanks! Here we go!

**And thus, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Altermano.**

* * *

**Part 3  
****Losing This World**

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**3.1**

I look straight at the thing that is - was - my reflection. Now, I know for a fact that it is not a reflection.

It moves of its own accord. It punched – and broke – the glass. That glass is now in shards, falling around me. A shard almost scrapes my thigh, missing narrowly, cutting razor sharp through the teal depths of liquid-that-cannot-be-liquid. All around, it falls like snowflakes, deeper and deeper down into infinity.

Where am I? Who is this lookalike of me?

I gaze at him, silently, his fist still frozen in a punch, not moving. I'm not moving either, and for some reason, there is no change to the still, ice-like flow of the water-like substance around us both.

I shiver; I admit that I don't know what's happened, or what will happen to me now. Will I be trapped here, in this weird place where the water doesn't flow right, where I am alone – except for the strange, clone-like copy of me to stare me to death?

"Ssh."

I jerk upwards, shoulders and spine rocketing, and see that the fist has gone, to be replaced as a finger on the 'reflection's – no, it can't be a reflection – lips. A more serious, more usual look mirrors my fright. "Just… don't freak."

I am freaking, though – how is it speaking? How come I can hear it as well as I'd hear a conversation on dry land, in a world I actually knew? How come it's not distorted by the wetness surrounding us both? How come it can even speak?

It – who, _me?_ Who is this…_ me_ that isn't _me?_

"Trust me." Its voice is quiet, a mumble in the darkened depths. Slowly, its finger leaves its lips, sweeping back down to its side. "I've not been here much longer, and I'm as useless as you are in here, but there is stuff I know. Just… don't panic, don't think about breathing, and don't try to swim. Just do that and listen to me."

Slow down? As strange as it seems, maybe I really should listen. There's no-one else to trust, besides. Responding, I try to relax my muscles, loosen the kinks, slow my processes down, attempting to make sense of what it has said. Calming my body, my breaths slow, and while they have not completely stopped, I am breathing far slower. I nod, remembering the oddity of this place, and the fact that I could breathe – and float – rather normally.

"And for hell's sake, don't bother covering yourself up. I know what I look like naked anyway."

Well, that's that sorted. It thinks that _I'm it_ – or is _it me_? Even I'm confused…

"And yeah, speak if you want. Do I look like I'm drowning to you?"

This lookalike, I decide, is just plain moody. Nevertheless, I can't keep quiet myself for too long. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to put my thoughts into words, and get the courage to speak to it. This, I think, has something to do with this whole mess I've ended up in.

"Okay," I say, slower than usual, attempting to get used to speech in submersion. Instantly, I notice that the water does not flow into my mouth, staying in place instead. _Weird…_ "I can do that."

"Good. Now, let's get things straight. I'm Lovino – and, let me guess, you're called that too?"

_Fucking hell…_ but then, I doubt I'd be surprised. It – he? – looks like me, in virtually every way I happen to have noticed. "Yeah… so wait, are we the same person?" If I'm the clone, I don't even want to know. I can't be a clone_. I can't be a fucking clone._ He's an impostor, isn't he?

It – let it be an _it_ - shrugs its shoulders. "I don't even know."

"Why?" I ask, still uncertain. "If you've been out here for longer, you should know, shouldn't you?"

"Well, fuck – because I don't!" It crosses its arms in disappointment, trying to turn away and leave me – which I doubt it can. Even so, I look down at myself, trying to think of a solution, simply because I cannot face being 'Lovino 2'.

It's at that point that I notice something. In here, my limbs feel lighter, as if all the pain has gone. I wonder if my side has healed then, so I decide to look at the place where it hurt, where there had never been any redness nor a scar –

- and gasp in surprise. I feel the lookalike turn around in response.

In the place I knew there was pain, the place I'm sure was where I was hit by the car, there had never been anything to prove that accident. Now, there, I see it, despite the dark colours of my surroundings - an ugly, huge, blooming-like bruise. Black, looking like it's spreading, but not actually changing – great and looming, as if it was taking over my entire left side.

I never had that bruise. But I did feel its pain.

"W-wait a second! Look at this thing… I didn't have it before…" I grimace at its size; though the water – or whatever it is - seems to be numbing the pain, I can still feel it throbbing inside. "No wonder… the crash did happen… but then, I didn't have it… and they'd all thought I'd fainted…"

"Hold it." The lookalike stops my thoughts-out-loud in their tracks. "Fainted? Did you say someone thought you fainted?" His eyes are wide, resembling saucers. "Because… I think I fainted…"

"Where, then?"

"Elise and Toni's -" I don't let it finish.

"No way. No fucking way. This… this just doesn't work, then…" How can this be working, then? This lookalike – this person who says they're _me_, but they're _not me…_

Pause everything. So, wait. Whatever happened to him was what everybody thought happened to me… and we look the same, and have the same name…

Did we… _swap places?_ And nobody realised we had? But then, how?

The other_ me_ looks confused. "What the hell; what doesn't-"

"This. I mean, look at it." With a pause and a much needed breath – my throat feels sore and dry with the irony of the liquid everywhere – everything whirrs into action inside my brain, and the jigsaw game begins. "You fainted, and I got hit by a car – I definitely, definitely know that. I felt it – and now, there's the bruise. I didn't have it before, though. And… I woke up in a world where I'd apparently fainted, and everyone thought I was crazy when I mentioned the crash…"

Something clicks, and not the unpleasant sort of click – not an injured-joint sort of click, but the click of wonder on a boy's face as he realises how a puzzle works - "I think I was in your world."

"Well, if we say there's two worlds, and in mine, there was a crash, and it was the year 2012 – your year is 2017, right?" I know nothing about worlds and places and dimensions, or what on earth could have happened. But for now, for this, and for the sake of my sanity, let it be another world. It's impossible to know.

_Unless… if I was in his world, was he in mine?_

"Yeah, 2017… August, wasn't it? That's what I remember – well, what I used to know, that is…" The other me replies with a nod, retaining the uncertainty – although now, there's definitely some belief in his expression. It looks like his thoughts are similar – but there's still more. "I don't know where I was after the faint, or the time. There wasn't a clock in the place – it was a different place… and I was only awake for a little bit."

Logical solution, Lovino, logical solution, think – "What do you mean, little bit? I was awake virtually all the time…" (For now, let's not mention my own faint. That'll just confuse us both, and that's the last thing we need.)

The lookalike – clone, Lovino 2, whoever, whatever – coughs for a second, as if trying to clear his throat. I pause. "After I fainted – I know that was 2017, definite, my time – I felt really weird. I was in this place, I knew it. I opened my eyes in here, and there was this watery shit or whatever this is. And I just felt tired and crazy and my head hurt. I noticed I could breathe and shit, so yeah, and that's how I knew about this place more than you. I did see you as well – you were in here, on the other side of the wall – your eyes were closed, though. You weren't doing anything, really."

I reply, then, a little calmed by the revelation. "But, wait, how come I was awake, and here at the same time, then – are you even saying that?" The little sense there is is on the verge of falling down – as if the world hasn't fallen around my ears already. I can't be in two places at once… even though there's this lookalike, but he isn't me… is he?

His hand touches his chin, as if he is musing out loud. "Well, I did wake up for a bit, but I didn't feel like I'd left this place. It was… well, like I was subconscious or something, but I wasn't awake for long anyway. I felt dizzy; then I fainted again."

"What did you see when you were awake, then?" If he doesn't know, there might be a clue in what he remembers. (Why is he a _he_ all of a sudden? It could be anyone, for hell's sake…)

Slowly, he speaks. "Light… some kind of light room, just white walls all over the place. But Feli was there…" The way he pronounced the name felt as if he was not just saying the name of my little brother, but rather, remembering some source of enlightenment.

_What I'd give for some light in this situation…! _"And? Feli?"

"He was scared, for some reason. Like something had happened, worse than fainting. And I was happy to see him-"

Strike – "Did you kiss him?"

"Y-yeah," he utters, looking at me as if I am a circus freak. "You guessed it or something – and don't ask!"

"Why'd I ask?"

"He's my brother, I know- I'm a bastard, I'm a freak, fuck me!" Out of anger, he tries to turn around, whirling the water into a small storm. I say nothing, sighing instead. The other me's a bitch.

"Get back here!" I'm not letting him go, there's too much to answer. If he's going to think I'm letting him go, he really can go fuck himself. "Just – it doesn't matter, just get back to the deal! Forget I ever said it and let's get this sorted – or are we staying here forever?"

Bastard. "I remember, in that case. When I fainted – and I actually fucking mean I fainted, when Elise told me to go downstairs – I had this… hallucination thing. At least, I think it was one." Inside, I don't even know, but for the sake of life and death and little weird fishies, I'm going to say that it was. "And then, I passed out. And when I was out of it, I saw myself kissing him. But it wasn't any place I knew… And the walls were white…"

"Hospital?" he suggests. "White walls, where else? Why'd you be in hospital anyway?"

Click, snap, flash of colour. "I… I… got… hit by the car…"

It works. He woke up in hospital, with Feliciano fretting over me, and kissed him. I woke up in the future, and Feli and I were married.

"Shit…" One of us says it; I don't know which one, but I am definitely silent after that. "We switched…"

It's still a great big mess in my head. It's still nonsense, but maybe, that nonsense is starting to untangle itself. We somehow switched places. And now, we're in here, in this weird, watery place, together – and something about this feels awfully wrong. Coexisting doesn't feel right.

After what feels like too many moments of absolute nothingness, the words finally rise, and I am spurred into motion. Looking up, I reach out with my hand, attempting to make contact with the other me – who, then, eerily enough, mirrors it, much more like the reflection I first imagined. It feels colder all of a sudden, as if the sun has gone, and the water has changed.

"How do I get back, then?" I remember resurfacing, somehow – whenever I woke up, the feeling reminded me of resurfacing, at least. Like coming up out of the water and out of the shadows, it made my heart thrum faster with fear every time, as if I was not going to make it, but I made it nonetheless.

The same feeling begins with the thought. Suddenly, the water seems to feel heavier, and less like water. Instead, it feels heavier upon my skin, like cream or mud, while still retaining its strange blue colour. Something tightens in my throat, and I feel like I am about to slowly – very slowly – choke.

A riveting cough comes out of me, and the other me screws up his face. I sense, without a touch, that it is the same experience. A single, bright green eye flashes open, and with a grit of his teeth, he says something with an echo of such agony that I feel it is almost incomprehensible. "Ack… Go up… Doesn't matter… Just go."

There's no time to think, and less time to ask. Glancing around, eyes starting to sting, I glimpse something coming towards us – glass flying around, the wall's destruction in reverse like some unnatural rewinding. It's closing in, and fast.

Moving my arms, attempting to squeeze out the pain and pretend it's not there, I begin to stroke, dog-like and feeble in the suppressing depths. "And you! You… you go too!" I immediately regret speaking – there is a terrible squeeze in my lungs, and I stroke faster, forcing back as much as I can with my feet in a desperate push. The pain sets in, bolting down from fingers to shoulders, and I want to scream, but I can't –

_- I'm dying_ –

- and I can't look down anymore, but I feel him gather his strength also, out of synchronization but I'm praying that it's not out of time, and the sight is getting lighter – but it hurts, and it stings, and it burns in the cold…

I see the light, hear the backwards _shink!_ of the barrier returning, shards clawing at me in pursuit, tigers and snakes, slithering and trying to coil. I know I'm close, and I don't care where I end up, or whatever happens, whichever Feliciano I'll see again, but it hurts, and like the teeth of a monster, there's suddenly a pain in my side, a throbbing sort of feeling, like a second heart in the wrong place, beating and bleeding, but there's no loss of blood.

Light. I can't do this anymore. A final, frenzied stroke. Last thought.

_Feli, forgive me!_

**end of 3.1**


End file.
